The Bishop's Brood

by Simon Beaufort

  Simon swallowed nervously. ‘Just do as he says and nothing will happen to you. You will be well rid of Geoffrey anyway. A man who reads is no company for a brother of mine.’

  ‘But this is Eleanor’s house,’ cried Roger. ‘She does not like blood on her rugs.’

  Flambard gave a sudden and inappropriate gulp of laughter. ‘I have been asked to spare people’s lives on many occasions, but never on the grounds that their deaths will spoil the carpets.’

  ‘Did you plan this from the start?’ asked Roger, turning on him accusingly. ‘As soon as we arrived in Durham, you intended to be rid of us?’

  ‘No,’ said Flambard soothingly. ‘You will come to Normandy, where you will enter my service.’

  ‘But Geoffrey—’ protested Roger.

  ‘You can be moulded to suit our needs; he cannot,’ said Flambard bluntly.

  Geoffrey looked at the bishop’s hard, cold eyes and at Odard’s determined face, wondered how he could have been so foolish as to imagine they would let him go, given all he knew. And his naiveté had cost him his life, because Odard was a skilled fighter who would have a quarrel in Geoffrey before he could touch the hilt of his sword, let alone draw it.

  ‘It is almost time to leave,’ said Flambard, glancing out of the window. He gave Geoffrey a sad smile. ‘Do not worry. You do not have long to wait.’

  ‘Then answer some questions,’ said Roger in a valiant attempt to prolong the occasion, doubtless anticipating that Geoffrey would be able to think of a way to escape if he bought them time. Geoffrey, however, could see no way out of his predicament: Odard would not be tricked by any ploy that would fool a lesser man into lowering his guard.

  ‘I thought we had been through all that,’ said Flambard tiredly. Geoffrey knew how he felt. He did not much want to review the plot, either. ‘What else do you want to know?’

  ‘I do not understand how Gamelo knew we were at Ellie’s house the night he attacked,’ said Roger. ‘The only person who knew what we planned was Simon, and he said it was not him.’

  But Simon had not been the only other person who knew, Geoffrey thought. Although he had already guessed the identity of their betrayer, the knowledge still sent a cold stab of dismay through him when he realized how blind he had been.

  ‘Someone else knew,’ he said. ‘And this same person also knew that we would go to Simon’s home today, to see whether he had returned, and thus meet Flambard.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Roger, puzzled.

  ‘Who told you to go?’ pressed Geoffrey. ‘Who even gave you a key to Simon’s house, for God’s sake, so we could be caught inside it, where no one would see what was happening?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ whispered Roger, white-faced. ‘Not Ellie!’

  ‘Eleanor,’ said Geoffrey bitterly. ‘She has been keeping Flambard informed of every step of our investigation. It was she who told Flambard that Turgot had ordered us to find the third map.’

  ‘Ellie would not harm us,’ declared Roger unsteadily. ‘Besides, she always says our father is a treacherous serpent, who cannot be trusted to tell the truth about anything.’

  ‘Does she indeed?’ asked Flambard coolly.

  ‘An act, to disguise her true feelings,’ said Geoffrey. ‘She knows it is the wrong time to tell folk she loves a man who has been accused of treason by the King and who is hated by the people.’

  ‘I confess there have been misunderstandings,’ began Flambard smoothly. ‘But—’

  ‘It all makes sense now,’ said Geoffrey, thinking fast. ‘She did not trust me to hand the third map to Turgot. She thought I might try to cheat you – like Durnais and Jarveaux had already done.’

  ‘We do not know you,’ explained Flambard. ‘Roger’s recommendation of your virtues is hardly something to trust, and all men are potentially dishonest. It is because of the State of Original Sin. I know what I am talking about here, because I am a bishop.’

  Geoffrey was sure Flambard knew a good deal more about dishonesty than the average man, but that it had nothing to do with his priestly office. ‘Eleanor told Gamelo we would be with her that night, hoping I would be killed and thus never reveal details of the treasure maps. You need not have gone to such extremes: to have told anyone else about this would have been stupid and dangerous.’

  ‘But it was not Ellie,’ protested Roger reproachfully. ‘Not her.’

  ‘When Gamelo and his accomplice burst into her solar, she did not dive for cover as most people would have done,’ said Geoffrey. ‘She knew she was in no danger from them, so she stayed where she was. It was me who wrested her to the ground.’

  ‘I do not believe you,’ said Roger, his face an agonized mask of indecision.

  ‘And when killers burst into folks’ homes, their bodies are not usually treated with the kind of respect she showed Gamelo’s friend,’ Geoffrey continued remorselessly. ‘Eleanor would not look at his face, and felt guilty about his death.’

  And she had insisted that he and Roger dispensed with their armour, Geoffrey recalled. She said it was because she did not like weapons in her solar, but it was so the two knights would be helpless when Gamelo came. Geoffrey would be dead, the map would be gone, and Roger was malleable and would do what she demanded. Because she loved Roger, she would have ensured he was not harmed.

  ‘She did not want us to investigate for Turgot,’ acknowledged Roger. ‘And she was angry I had agreed to carry the map in the first place. She did not want us involved.’

  ‘So she did,’ said Flambard. ‘But I told her I stood a better chance of getting the Rod if you were helping, than if I had to rely on that dim-witted bursar.’

  So, that explained why she had gone from dismay that her brother had allowed himself to become embroiled in Flambard’s affairs to being helpful – accompanying Geoffrey to speak to Alice and the witches. She had cared deeply for Roger’s welfare, but none for Geoffrey’s. The realization stung.

  With a sudden wrenching feeling, he remembered she had even tried to kill him with her own hands the night she had slipped up behind him with her noose. He had assumed it was to prove her point: that it was possible to sneak up behind a knight and throttle him. He saw that had she been able to tighten the rope, he would not have lived to acknowledge she had been correct.

  ‘I was glad of Ellie,’ said Flambard complacently. ‘It was reassuring to hear about your progress, so I would know exactly when to step in and reveal myself with the least risk. And she said Turgot would be too ignorant to recognize Aaron’s Rod for what it is and would throw it away.’

  ‘I was right.’ All heads turned as the door opened, and Eleanor stepped inside.

  ‘Eleanor,’ said Flambard, beaming fondly at her. ‘The best of all my brats.’

  She walked daintily across the room and set a tray containing more food on the table. ‘It will be a long journey, and you should rest and eat now.’

  ‘Ham pie,’ drooled Flambard. ‘And marchpanes. You are a good lass, Ellie.’

  She smiled, and bent to kiss him on the top of the head. Geoffrey found he was unable to watch and wondered how Roger felt.

  ‘Ellie,’ said Roger hoarsely. ‘What are you doing? I am your favourite brother.’

  ‘You are, and no harm will come to you, I promise. We will go to Normandy – you, Simon, father, and I, where I will not have to run a brothel.’

  ‘But what about Geoff?’ asked Roger wretchedly.

  ‘Forget him,’ said Eleanor, her eyes fixed on Roger so she did not have to look at Geoffrey. ‘Forget the bloodshed and slaughter of the Crusade, too, and become what you once were: gentle and kind. I did not want you to go on that Crusade in the first place, and I was furious when I learned today – from our father – that Turgot had you sent on false pretences.’

  Flambard gave Geoffrey a wink, and the knight knew there was no point in trying to convince Eleanor that it had been Flambard, not Turgot, who had insisted Roger was sent away. Eventually, even Roger would come to believe the pilgrimage to the Holy La
nd had been Turgot’s idea, and Flambard’s role would be forgotten.

  ‘You desecrated nothing,’ continued Eleanor. ‘So that horrible expedition was quite unnecessary. You have returned rough and wicked, thanks to men like Geoffrey, but I will make you good again.’

  Geoffrey almost laughed, thinking she would have a lot of work to do to turn Roger into the kind of man she wanted as her brother. It was desperately unfair that Geoffrey should be held responsible for Roger’s proverbial decline into devilry, since he was nearly always the one to urge moderation. And as for wickedness, if Geoffrey lived to be a hundred years old, he could never attain the standards of deceit and greedy self-interest that drove Flambard and his offspring. How Eleanor had convinced herself that Geoffrey was a bad influence, but Flambard was not, was beyond his comprehension.

  ‘This is good, Ellie,’ said Simon, grabbing a thick slice of meat and cramming it into his mouth. ‘You always were a good cook.’

  ‘Do not enjoy it too much,’ said Geoffrey. ‘It is pork.’

  Eleanor looked at him sharply.

  ‘So?’ asked Simon, eating more of it. ‘I like pork.’

  ‘Have you seen your pig recently?’ asked Geoffrey. ‘The one of which you are so fond?’

  Simon stopped chewing. ‘She is with Cenred. He always looks after her when I am away. I will collect her tonight though, and she will sail to Normandy with us.’

  ‘You will find Cenred does not have her,’ said Geoffrey. ‘And all traces of her are long gone – some of them via your stomach.’

  Simon gazed at the chunk of meat in his hand. ‘No,’ he said, although he did not take another bite.

  ‘I do not want to discuss pigs while I am eating,’ said Eleanor quickly. ‘It was bad enough having to listen to Roger’s tales of slaughter, and I will not have talk of swine at my table.’

  ‘Cenred does not have your pig,’ Geoffrey continued, his attention fixed on Simon. ‘Ask anyone at the castle. In fact, he is concerned because the pig has disappeared. He likes her, too.’

  ‘He does,’ agreed Simon. ‘That is why I allow him to care for her while I am away.’

  ‘Enough,’ said Eleanor sharply. ‘I said I do not want to talk about pigs.’

  ‘I am sure you do not,’ said Geoffrey, ‘because all that is left of your brother’s sow is what is lying on the table. The Littel brothers spoke to the butcher this morning: you paid him well to keep your secret, but not well enough.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Eleanor coldly.

  ‘When the issue of the missing pig first arose, you told me not to waste time looking into it. I should have realized sooner what had become of the thing – your larder was full of hams when I was looking for somewhere to leave my dog the other day, and we have eaten pork at every meal.’

  ‘You are wrong when you say there is nothing left,’ said Eleanor, turning on him suddenly, eyes flashing with anger. ‘There is another ham in the larder and the trotters are waiting to be made into broth. Your dog made off with the snout, but I found it under your bed this morning.’

  Simon backed away from her in horror. ‘Why?’ he whispered. ‘You know what she meant to me.’

  ‘Because you would have wanted to take it to Normandy with us,’ said Eleanor harshly. ‘Its squealing and grunting would have given us away. Now that will not be an issue.’

  ‘Taking a pig would reduce our chances of escape,’ agreed Flambard. ‘It is better this way, Simon. Ellie was right to do what she did.’

  ‘How could you?’ Simon whispered to Eleanor, his face drained and white.

  Geoffrey glanced from Simon to Odard, who was watching the scene with detached amusement. Meanwhile, Simon was clenching and unclenching his fists in mute fury, and Eleanor, fearful for her safety, had grabbed a knife from the table. While Odard’s attention strayed to her, Geoffrey leapt from the bench and dived at him. Odard swung around with the crossbow, and Geoffrey winced as the mechanism fired close to his ear. Then he and Odard were rolling on the floor, grappling with and scrabbling at each other. Odard was a good fighter, and quickly abandoned the crossbow in favour of a dagger. With demonic strength, he thrust Geoffrey away from him and lunged with the knife. Geoffrey saw it glitter as it began to descend.

  With a bellow of rage, Roger launched himself from the window seat and joined the affray. Geoffrey winced a second time as Odard’s arm broke with a sharp snap, even as it was gathering strength for the downward plunge. Odard screamed in agony, and the fight was over. He held his wrist against his chest, his face contorted with pain, and the dagger clattered to the floor. Geoffrey scrambled away from him, backed up against the wall, and drew his sword.

  But the danger was over. Odard sat cursing vilely, while Simon stood with his hands dangling uselessly at his sides. Flambard knelt on the floor, next to the prostrate Eleanor.

  ‘Ellie!’ cried Roger, rushing to her and elbowing his father out of the way. ‘What happened?’

  ‘A crossbow bolt,’ said Flambard angrily. ‘When Geoffrey leapt at Odard, the weapon went off. I have told him time and time again that crossbows are dangerous and should not be kept loaded in small rooms. And now look what has happened.’

  ‘It was not my fault,’ whispered Simon, horrified. ‘She had a knife and was going to stab me.’

  ‘Simon went for her at the same time as Geoffrey went for Odard,’ explained Flambard. ‘She defended herself with a knife. Then the crossbow went off. It should have hit Simon, but he twisted her around so the bolt hit her instead.’

  Roger gave his half-brother a look of such hatred that Simon backed away.

  ‘It was an accident,’ Simon insisted. ‘What I did was instinctive. I would not hurt her deliberately.’

  Geoffrey, whose own instincts had saved his life on many occasions, did not know what to think. Even a strong sense of self-preservation had never induced him to use the body of a friend to take an arrow intended for him. He looked away from Simon to Eleanor. A small trickle of blood eased from her mouth and ran down her chin.

  ‘Roger,’ she whispered in a voice that was little more than a breath.

  ‘All right, Ellie, lass,’ said Roger, gruffly gentle. ‘It is only a scratch.’

  But Geoffrey could see it was not, and the crossbow bolt protruding from her chest meant she was going to die.

  ‘She killed my pig,’ said Simon in a choked voice. ‘And then she gave her to me to eat!’

  ‘Then let us hope it tasted good,’ muttered Odard nastily. No one found his comment amusing. Still holding his shattered arm, he struggled to his feet. Geoffrey responded by stamping on the crossbow to destroy its firing mechanism, then removing the Hospitaller’s other weapons. Seeing he was defeated, Odard became bitter. ‘We almost succeeded in everything we wanted to achieve! We have Aaron’s Rod, a ship is waiting, and I had Geoffrey in my sights. Then Simon had to start an argument over a pig! I should have killed him, and allowed Geoffrey to go free.’

  ‘She was not “a pig”,’ shouted Simon furiously. ‘She was my pig – my companion, my friend.’

  ‘Please,’ said Flambard. ‘Keep your voices down. Your sister is dying. At least have the grace to allow her to do so in peace.’

  ‘Why, Ellie?’ asked Roger, his big face creased with hurt. ‘Why did you betray us?’

  ‘Not you,’ she whispered weakly. ‘Never you. We were to go to Normandy together. We would have been happy again, like we were when we were young.’

  ‘But you were going to kill my friend!’

  ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I wanted to at first – I even considered strangling him, since it worked for whoever murdered Xavier. But I saw he was good to you, and I intended to help him escape.’

  ‘Did you indeed?’ demanded Odard unpleasantly. ‘I would like to have seen you try.’

  ‘I had his horse brought to my yard. I was going to pretend I had poisoned him, so you would not consider him a danger, and then I intended to help him leave. It was a pity he mentioned the pig
.’

  ‘Give her last rites,’ Flambard ordered Odard. ‘You are a priest, as well as a soldier, are you not?’

  Odard hesitated, but the flash of anger in Flambard’s eyes convinced him to crouch next to Eleanor and begin to mutter prayers for the dying, while Roger looked on, stricken.

  Eleanor said nothing more, and her breathing became softer until it stopped altogether. For a moment, no one moved or spoke.

  ‘I do not know who to kill for this,’ said Roger brokenly. He looked at Flambard. ‘You came here and led her into all this danger; Odard’s crossbow bolt brought about her death; Geoffrey caused the thing to go off in the first place; and Simon pushed her into the quarrel’s path.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ said Flambard softly. ‘More sorry than you can know. Ellie was the best of all my brats. But standing here discussing who to kill will do no one any good. It is dark outside, and it is time I was on my way.’

  ‘What about him?’ asked Odard, gesturing to Geoffrey. ‘We cannot leave him. He will have Cenred after us in an instant, and he knows more than enough to bring us a traitor’s death.’

  ‘He will not betray us, because he will not want to see Roger in trouble,’ said Flambard. ‘We will let him go, as Eleanor wanted.’

  Odard’s face was pale, and he was in too much pain to argue. ‘Very well. Then let’s be on our way. Roger will have to help me, because I do not think I can walk far.’

  ‘I am not going anywhere,’ said Roger softly. ‘I am off to the Holy Land, to kill honest Saracens.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Flambard, ‘Odard must also remain, since he says he will not be able to keep up with us. I will not risk capture because of him.’

  ‘What?’ asked Odard in horror. ‘But you cannot leave me here. I have served you faithfully and without question for four years. You cannot abandon me now, just because it suits you.’

  ‘You have not served me as faithfully as you claim,’ said Flambard frostily. He picked up the box containing the snake. ‘Carry this, Simon.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Odard nervously. ‘I have done all you asked, even murder. I have been faithful to the sacred vow I swore to my Grand Master.’